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Authors: Robert J. Randisi

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BOOK: Crow Bait
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Twenty-five

The Autry was a run-down two-story hotel that looked one good storm away from being a pile of rubble.

“You know the owner here?” Lancaster asked.

“No,” Ledge said. “I knew the previous owner, but he was killed.”

“By the present owner?”

“No, by a former guest.”

“What about clerks?” Lancaster asked. “Know any of the clerks?”

“That depends,” Ledge said with a shrug. “Why don’t we just go in and see who’s working? I might know ’em, but I might not.”

They approached the hotel and entered the lobby. There were the remnants of a couple of chairs on the floor, as if there had just been a fight. Behind the desk a bored clerk watched them as they came up to the desk.

“You ain’t lookin’ fer a room,” he said.

“How do you know?” Lancaster asked

“I can tell. You got somethin’ on yer mind.”

“I got some questions,” Lancaster agreed. “Are you gonna have some answers?”

“I guess that depends on how bad you want
answers,” the clerk said. He was young and cocky for a young fellow who worked in a dump.

“How bad do I need to?” Lancaster asked.

“Well, you can threaten me, maybe beat me up,” the clerk said, “but that’ll take longer.”

“Longer than what?”

“Payin’ me.”

The young man seemed pretty sure of himself. Lancaster noticed he had one hand in view and the other below the desk. What were the chances he had a gun underneath the desk?

“Well,” Lancaster said, “I could pay you, but the fact of the matter is I don’t have any money, so we’re gonna have to go another way.”

“Hey, I gotta gu—”

Working as one, Lancaster and Ledge picked up the front desk and rammed it and the clerk against the wall behind them. The clerk cried out, both hands going out to try to protect himself.

Lancaster and Ledge pulled the flimsy desk away and tossed it aside, where it fell to pieces. On the floor at their feet was an old Navy Colt that the clerk had been holding.

“Okay,” Lancaster said, grabbing the clerk by the front of the shirt and pulling him up, “we went another way.”

“Take it easy,” the clerk said. “I’m just tryin’ to make a few extra dollars.”

“How about no money, and no beatin’ up?” Ledge asked. “We’ll just ask some questions and you answer ’em.”

“Okay, then,” the clerk said. “That’ll work.”

“I want to see your register for the past couple of weeks,” Lancaster said.

“Why didn’t you just say so? It’s on the floor, there. Um, with my broken desk.”

Ledge looked down at his feet, saw the book, and picked it up. He passed it to Lancaster, who let go of the clerk and opened the book.

“Here we go,” Lancaster said. “It was actually about a week ahead of me. Sweet, Adderly, and Cardiff.”

“You remember them?” Ledge asked.

“Who wouldn’t remember a man named Sweet?” the clerk asked. “He was touchy about it.”

“You ever hear them talk about where they were goin’ when they left here?” Lancaster asked.

“You sure there ain’t a few dollars in this for me?” the clerk asked.

“I can wrap the rest of this desk around your neck,” Ledge said.

“Hey, okay,” the clerk said. “I heard somethin’ about Henderson, and I think one of them said somethin’ about Peach City, or somethin’ like that.”

“Peach City?” Lancaster asked.

Ledge just shrugged.

“Never heard of it,” he said.

“That it?” Lancaster asked the clerk.

“Hey, mister,” he said, “that’s all I heard.”

Lancaster looked at Ledge again and the man said, “I think that’s all we’re gonna get.”

Lancaster pushed the register into the clerk’s chest. The man grabbed it with both arms.

As Lancaster and Ledge headed for the door, the
clerk called out, “What am I gonna tell my boss happened to the desk?”

Lancaster turned, waved at the floor, and said, “Blame it on whoever broke these chairs.”

As they went out the door, they heard the clerk mutter, “That’s actually not a bad idea.”

Twenty-six

Lancaster invited Ledge to the K.O. Saloon for a drink, but Ledge declined.

“I stay out of the saloons in town,” he said.

“Why’s that?” Lancaster asked.

“I get into too much trouble when I go to saloons,” Ledge said. “That’s why I make my own squeezin’s. I can get drunk at home without gettin’ into any trouble.”

“Makes sense.”

“So come back and share a jug.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t so long ago I was a drunk, Ledge,” Lancaster said. “I can’t risk it again.”

“I understand,” Ledge said. “I can make a pot of coffee, and then we can talk about what we’re gonna do next.”

“What we’re gonna do?”

“Yeah,” Ledge said, “to track those bastards who bushwhacked you.”

They were walking back to Ledge’s place.

“Ledge, I don’t expect you to pick up and leave your home to help me track them down.”

“You gonna track three men alone?”

“I’m gonna track ’em one at a time.”

“Well,” Ledge said, “what the hell, let’s have some coffee and talk about it. Maybe I can say somethin’ that’ll help.”

“What kind of horse?” Ledge asked.

“Crow Bait.”

“That’s his name or what he is?”

“It’s what he looked like when we found each other on the desert,” Lancaster said, “but he walked me out of there. He saved my life.”

“So you’re gonna stay with him to track these bastards?”

“Ledge, it’s amazing the stamina this horse had,” Lancaster said. “With some feed in him and a few pounds on him, there’s no telling how long he can go.”

“You can get a better horse, ya know,” Ledge said.

“That would cost money, and I’m kind of short right now,” Lancaster said.

“Well, I can’t help ya there,” Ledge said. “I ain’t got much money myself.”

“That’s okay,” Lancaster said. “My friend over at Wells Fargo staked me enough to get outfitted. And Mal helped a lot.”

“Then you’re ready to go.”

“Yeah, and don’t take offense, but I’d just as soon do this alone,” Lancaster said. “I’m kind of used to working that way.”

“Hell, I ain’t takin’ offense,” Ledge said. “This is your business. Believe me, I know how it feels. It took me eight months to track the two who shot me in the back, but I got ’em, and I felt great about it. Folks say revenge ain’t worth it, but I’m here to tell you, it is.”

“Well, I’m intent on mine, and nobody’s gonna talk me out of it,” Lancaster said.

“Well, now that you have a couple of places to check out, when will you be leavin’?”

“Soon,” Lancaster said. “I probably need a couple more days myself, and Crow Bait can use the extra feed time. But I’m not gonna wait much longer than that. I don’t want those jaspers getting too big a head start on me. I’ve already got a lot of time to make up.”

“Slow and steady, Lancaster,” Ledge said. “I’m here ta tell ya that slow and steady will do it.”

“Well, I think I got the right horse for that,” Lancaster said.

He did, as long as Crow Bait didn’t suddenly revert to that condition. The animal did still look awful!

Lancaster finished his coffee with Ledge and thanked the man for backing his play. When he left Ledge’s place he walked over to the livery and found Mal still awake and working.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

“Got what I needed,” Lancaster said, “without firing a shot.”

“That’s good.”

“Ledge was a big help. Thanks for that.”

“He gonna track ’em with you?”

“He would, but I asked him not to.”

“You wanna do this alone, huh?”

“That’s right.”

“Can’t blame you.”

“You ever heard of a place called Peach City?”

“No,” Mal said, “but I heard of Peach Springs.”

“Where’s that?”

“It’s a small town in Arizona, east of Henderson.”

“That’s gotta be it, then,” Lancaster said. “Henderson and Peach Springs.”

“And you’re still takin’ Crow Bait?”

“Unless you tell me he can’t make it.”

“Ain’t gonna tell ya that,” Mal said. “He looks awful, but he seems to be okay.”

“So he’ll make it?”

“He should make it,” Mal said, “if that’s good enough for you.”

“It’s good enough for me.”

Twenty-seven

Three days later Lancaster went to Doc Murphy’s to get checked out, then went to Mal’s livery to check on Crow Bait. Both of them got a clean bill of health, although Crow Bait still looked like hell.

Actually, so did Lancaster.

But it didn’t matter how they looked. What mattered was how they felt.

“He’s kickin’ down the stall,” Mal said. “I’m amazed. Based just on looks, you wouldn’t look at him twice. But I think you’re right about him. It’s all about stamina.”

“Is there any chance—” Lancaster said, then stopped himself.

“What?” Mal asked. “That he’ll suddenly become the horse he looks like?”

Lancaster nodded.

“Well, is there any chance you’ll suddenly become the man you look like?”

“Every day,” Lancaster said.

“There ya go, then,” Mal said. “You’ll both be takin’ a chance on each other.”

When Lancaster got back to his hotel, there was a message for him with the clerk. It was from Andy
Black, asking if he’d come over and see him as soon as he got the note.

He did.

Andy looked up as Lancaster entered and stood up.

“Thanks for comin’ over so fast, Lancaster.”

“I didn’t know when you left the note.”

“It was only about an hour ago. Have a seat. Somethin’ to drink? Coffee?”

“Coffee’s good.”

Andy poured two cups of coffee, passed one over to Lancaster, then sat behind his desk.

“What’s goin’ on, Andy?”

“How’d you like to make some money?”

“What kind of money?”

“Good money.”

“I don’t do that kind of work anymore, Andy,” Lancaster said.

“No, not that,” Andy said. “Wells Fargo needs somebody tracked down and brought in.”

“Bounty hunter?”

“If you’re workin’ for us,” Andy said, “it ain’t called that.”

Andy had a point. And Lancaster did need to put some money together.

“How much are we talkin’ about?”

“A lot,” Andy said. “Enough for you to get properly outfitted and buy a new horse.”

“I’ve got a horse.”

“Well, whatever you need, then.”

“Who am I hunting, Andy?”

Andy sat back and took a moment. “It’s Gerald Beck.”

“Gerry Beck?”

Andy nodded.

“Five thousand dollars,” he said. “A thousand in advance, four when you bring him in.”

“Alive?”

“Just bring him in,” Andy said. “He’s been robbin’ us blind for years, and it’s time to stop it…for good.”

Now it was Lancaster’s turn to hesitate.

“What brought this on, Andy?” he asked. “Gerry’s been at this for at least ten years.”

“He robbed a Wells Fargo office earlier this week, killed two men—two clerks. Well, one clerk, and one agent.”

“Like you?”

“Yes,” Andy said, “exactly like me.”

Lancaster had known Gerry Beck for many years, although he hadn’t seen him in about eight. There was a time when they rode together, worked together, but that went back even further. Over the past ten years, Beck had turned from hiring out his gun to robbing Wells Fargo stagecoaches, offices, and banks. Why, Lancaster didn’t know, but he’d been making their lives hell for all that time and even the best Wells Fargo detectives—like Dodge and Hume—had been unable to bring him to justice.

But Lancaster had other things to do.

“You know what my plans are, Andy.”

“Yeah, I do, Lancaster,” he said. “That’s why when I got the telegram from the main office I told them I’d get you.”

“And why did you think I’d be interested?”

“Well, aside from the money,” Andy said, “the office he hit was in Henderson.”

Twenty-eight

When Lancaster rode into Henderson a week later, he had a thousand dollars in his pocket. Crow Bait had been steadfast the entire ride from Laughlin, had not faltered once. So far, so good with the animal.

Despite the fact that he’d been given a thousand dollars in advance by Wells Fargo, he decided to keep all of the borrowed outfit he’d gotten from Mal and use them to track down the bushwhackers. Mal’s gun—though it had been in the trunk for a few years—had been well cared for and had served Mal well all through his life as a money gun. And Lancaster was committed to tracking these men down with the help of Crow Bait. When he was finished with both tasks, and he collected the rest of his fee, that was when he would outfit himself anew.

Actually, he had a thousand dollars minus what he had spent for some new clothes—an extra shirt and an extra pair of jeans.

He was still wearing the same flat-brimmed black Stetson he always wore. At least they had left him that in the desert—which might have been an oversight. If you want a man to die in the desert, then take not only his horse and his water, but his hat.

Lancaster rode directly to the Wells Fargo office,
tied Crow Bait off right outside, and walked in. There were two desks, one empty. Behind the other one sat a small man in his fifties, head down, working on some papers.

“Sam Worth?” Lancaster asked.

The man looked up. “I’m Worth. You Lancaster?”

“That’s right.”

“Come on in,” Worth said. “Have a seat.”

Lancaster pulled a chair over from the other desk and sat down.

Worth sat back, folding his arms. “So you’re the man who’s gonna bring in Gerald Beck when our best detectives haven’t been able to do it?”

“That’s me.”

“What makes you think you can succeed where they couldn’t?”

“I’m getting paid a lot of money to succeed,” Lancaster said.

“That’s it?”

“I happen to know Gerry Beck.”

That surprised Worth. “You know him? How?”

“We rode together once.”

“What are you, a reformed gunman?”

“Something like that,” Lancaster said. “You want to tell me what happened?”

“Sure,” Worth said. “Come on, I’ll walk you through it. I was here by the safe, my partner was at his desk, and there was another man…”

After Worth finished laying out the way it happened, Lancaster said, “You got lucky.”

“Whataya mean?”

“I mean all that flying lead and none hit you.” Lancaster looked around. There were chunks taken
out of the walls from the shooting. “You must have a guardian angel.”

“What are you tryin’ to say?” Worth asked.

“Nothing,” Lancaster said. “I just know the way Gerry Beck works.”

“And how’s that?”

“He likes to get himself an edge.”

“What kind of edge?” Worth went over and stood behind his desk. The fingers of his left hand were touching the handle of the top drawer.

“He likes to use an inside man when he can,” Lancaster said. “He finds somebody who needs money, or has a family.”

Worth was easing the drawer open.

“Which one were you, Sam?” Lancaster asked. “And if you try to pull that gun out of the drawer, I’ll kill you.”

Worth pulled his hand away as if the drawer were hot.

“Now talk,” Lancaster said. “Do you have family in town?”

“No.”

“Then Gerry must have offered you money,” Lancaster said. “A cut.”

“H-he said he’d kill me if I didn’t go along with him.”

“If he was going to kill you, he would have done it when he was killing the other two,” Lancaster said. “No, there was no threat. He was cutting you in. Did you get your money yet?”

Sam Worth licked his lips.

“No, you didn’t get paid yet. So why are you still here?”

Worth frowned.

Lancaster laughed.

“You don’t know where he is, do you?” he asked. “He pulled a fast one on you.”

Sam Worth sank back in his chair with a defeated look on his face.

BOOK: Crow Bait
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